


the quality of mercy [is not easily brained]

by hardlygolden



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlygolden/pseuds/hardlygolden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when Liv isn't herself, Ravi remains the most constant factor in her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the quality of mercy [is not easily brained]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baroqueriot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroqueriot/gifts).



Ravi is working in the lab when Liv opens the door. He doesn't look up at first - which gives her a moment to take in the full glory that is his Christmas sweater.

"That is the ugliest thing I've ever seen," she says. Her eyes are still blinded by the reindeer eating what look to be penguins on skis, played out in lurid knitted technicolour glory. 

"Good morning to you, too," he replies primly. "And if you mean my sweater, I'll have you know that my dear old grandmother knitted it for me for Christmas."

"Does she hate you that much?" Liv asks.

"Mean," Ravi chides, as he slides the scalpel to one side and swings the tray around. "Or hungry. Someone got the munchies?"

He gestures to a smoothie full of liquified goop. She can smell the tabasco from here. A year ago, she would have recoiled from the thought of drinking that. Now, in her new world order: it's just breakfast. Another day at the office. So much has changed - and she's still changing, every day. 

She thinks about that for a moment. “You’re the only one who didn’t know me before,” she says, apropos of nothing except her own train of thought. “My mom, my brother, Peyton, Major - they all knew pre-Zombie Liv. They all want me to be her again. You didn’t know that version of me, but you still liked me.”

"Of course I like you," says Ravi absently as he threads a needle and begins stitching.  

“But - how do you even know what I’m like? Half the time I don’t even know what I’m like, these days. I change with whatever brain I'm on.”

"You're still you," says Ravi. "The fact that you resist it - that you know it's not you - that just makes you stronger. And the part that is you is still consistent. That's the part that doesn't change."

"But - "

"Drink up," he commands kindly. "It's a terrible thing to be thinking this much on an empty stomach."

"Where would I be without you?," says Liv, reaching for the smoothie, and it's a rhetorical question except for how it isn’t.

"Let’s never find out,” says Ravi, as he neatly finishes the meticulous stitches he is making. She watches him work as she slurps away. Watching Ravi always relaxes her, the way some people watch cooking shows when they're on a diet. It's a window into a calming world where everything makes sense.

The body he is working on is a murder victim - a petty criminal - disowned by his family - who is going to be cremated first thing this morning. Nobody wanted to claim the body or pay for any sort of a funeral. 

Most medical examiners would have made do with basic stitches. Liv would have, back in the day - in the fast-paced world of the fast-track to a surgery residency. 

Ravi's swung around the magnifying glass, squinting so that he can see more clearly. His stitches are meticulous as they bind broken skin together, so that it looks almost as good as new. 

**

They’re walking down the corridor in the police department, on their way to meet with Clive. Ravi is carrying a sample bag of evidence and is chatting away a mile a minute. Liv is listening with only half her attention - the other half of her mind is focused on trying not to look too shifty. She’s on the second day of a cat burglar’s brain and being in a room full of cops is making her - edgy, to say the least. She tries to distract herself by casing the exits, staying out of range of the security camera.

She makes a note to talk to Clive about upgrading their system - there are some serious blind spots along the north-east side of the bullpen. It would be so easy for someone to just --

"Actually, I just remembered something I have to do," says Ravi, grabbing Liv's sleeve and derailing her train of thought completely.

She takes a closer look at him, and sees that a look on his face she's never seen before - stunned, like he saw something he never expected. He looks like most people look when they’ve seen a ghost - and Liv would know, because she’s seen what plenty of people have looked like when they’ve seen her. The shock, the fear, the disgust. The recoil.

Everybody except Ravi. He's never looked at her like that before - and he's not looking like that at her now, she realises, as she follows his gaze to where Clive is standing. The man Clive is talking to  doesn't look terrifying in the least - a nondescript type, academic. His jacket even has tweed elbow patches, for goodness sake. He looks like someone's algebra teacher. 

She makes a move to keep walking, but Ravi shakes his head. He thrusts the bag into her hand. “You go,” he says. He’s already walking away. She's about to follow him when Clive spots her and beckons her.

"Liv Moore, this is Frank Collins from the Centre for Disease Control," says Clive. “It seems our burglar was tasked to steal an experimental virus from their facilities. Frank wants to know who hired him.”

CDC. Suddenly she understands that stricken look on Ravi's face. This is the man who canned Ravi from the CDC, who told him that he was crazy and badmouthed him to all his colleagues. All because Ravi believed in something that nobody else did, and it turns out he was right all along - except he hasn’t told anyone that yet.

*

When they walk to the lab, Ravi is waiting for them. Liv notices he’s swapped out his sweater for a (mostly clean) lab coat. He looks every inch the professional.

Nonetheless, Frank from CDC wrinkles up his nose, like he’s smelt something bad.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” Ravi says, unrelentingly polite and clearly committed to making the best of what Liv is rapidly coming to understand is a terrible situation.

“So this is where you washed up?” Frank says, in lieu of a greeting. 

Clive’s eyes cut between Liv and Ravi, realising he’s missing something here.

“Still spouting your crack-pot theories?” says Frank. “Are you ever worried these bodies you’re surrounded by are going to reanimate and walk the earth?” He mimes a zombie lurch and Liv narrowly restrains herself from shooting him a death glare. Ravi’s steadying hand on her elbow is the only thing that prevents her from going full-on zombie on Frank.

After a few more jibes, Clive takes the first opportunity to usher Frank out, and Liv is left there standing staring at Ravi. He looks composed, nothing like the initial shock when he had first seen Frank - the only sign of his frustration is when he starts tidying up and drops a beaker. It smashes onto the floor beneath their feet. Liv drops down and starts picking up the pieces.  
Ravi does too - and cuts his finger on a shard of glass. He hisses in annoyance. “Stupid,” he says. He stares at the broken pieces of glass surrounding him. "I know I shouldn't let it get to me," he says, finally.

“You’re not stupid,” she says. “You’re the only one in that whole place who wasn’t stupid. Ravi, you were right - and I'm living proof. So to speak."

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. For all they can see, I'm still a crackpot." 

"All of the experiments - all the work you're pouring into finding this cure - you deserve recognition!"

He looks at her evenly. "You deserve a life, Liv. I'm doing my best to see that the life you want is the life you get. That's recognition enough."

“So you’re telling me you don’t want a Nobel prize?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I want a Nobel prize. I also want three weeks in Bora Bora but that doesn’t mean I’m about to book a plane ticket. This hasn’t been about science in a long time. Well, not really - I mean, everything’s about science, always, but what I mean is that the point of it hasn’t been about science. When I was at CDC - I was fascinated by the idea of this kind of biological plague, what it could mean for humanity. But when I met you - you’re not your disease, Liv. You’re amazing: a medical marvel. You’re the most alive dead person I’ve ever known.”

“If it’s a choice between being able to say I told you so to a bunch of close-minded idiots from my past, and your happiness - Liv, that’s not a choice at all.”


End file.
